Southern Hospitality & Oysters: 8,000 Miles of Flavor, and Friendship

There’s a reason the phrase Southern hospitality sticks. It’s more than kindness. It’s a culture. It’s how a stranger turns into a neighbor after one plate, one story, one shuck. And this spring, we shucked around and found out just that—on a journey that took us 8,000 miles from the East Coast to the Gulf and deep into the heart of Texas, chasing oysters, good people, and the kind of moments that only happen when you’re willing to wander.

The Masters: Second Time Around

Our trip began where it did last year—Augusta, Georgia—for The Masters. But this time, it was different. It was my second year, and Mahnaz came along too, which just made everything a whole lot more fun. I was looking forward to seeing the gang again - Dan, Andy, Spoo, Robert, Cora, Joe, Anthony, and the rest of the shuckers The Masters assembles from around the country.

Map & Flag, the VIP hospitality space we worked, had a whole new energy this time around—more relaxed, more engaged, and way more fun. We matched that mood with every oyster we shucked. Over six days, we moved close to 90,000 oysters (18,000 of them at Map & Flag). That number still makes me smile.

The best part? Meeting new people, as always. I finally got to meet Bella. She’s a champion shucker, and more importantly, an amazing human being. We ended up shucking side-by-side through a lot of the week, and it was a great time!

Kelly Keefe, another legend (we’d met at The Masters last year), sent me one of her custom shucking blocks and a knife. I put that thing to work. It helped me practice bill shucking, and by the end of the two weeks, I was getting pretty proficient at it. My goal is to master every way of shucking an oyster—not just for show, but for the flexibility it gives me when conditions shift. It paid off big time later at Jazz Fest later in the month when blisters started to creep in and I had to switch up my technique to keep going strong.

Every event is an education. Always keep learning, always keep experimenting. You never know when a new trick will save your hands—or your whole day

Back to New York... and Then the Real Trip Began

After Augusta, I headed home to New York, picked up my dog Bijli, and turned the van south again. Bijli and I drove straight down to Pensacola, Florida, to pick up Corey. It was a two-and-a-half-day haul. By the time we pulled into his driveway, we were wrecked—me and the dog both. We needed food, a place to crash, and a reset.

Corey’s parents delivered all of that and more. Food, a bed, warm conversation—for me and Bijli. Their hospitality was something else, the kind you don’t forget. It made sense in that moment where Corey gets it from. His kindness, his manners, his cooking chops—it’s all in the DNA.

The next morning, Corey and I drove out to Grayson Bay Oyster Company. They took us out on the farm, walked us through their process, and we pulled oysters fresh from the water for some of their upcoming events. Later that day, we headed over to Thomas Derbes place where he fired up a backyard shrimp boil that hit every note just right.

Coming straight from The Masters—where we were serving oysters in a tightly run, ticketed hospitality operation—it was humbling to sit in someone’s backyard and eat food made from the heart. No polish. No pretense. Just people, stories, and great seafood.

It was the start of another journey down South. One that would stretch out longer than planned, get fuller, and remind me again and again why I keep doing this.

I’m falling in love with this country one state at a time, it’s starting to feel more and more like home.

Jazz Fest: The Soul of the South

Being at Jazz Fest was special. It’s always been a dream of mine to go to a festival like that—one that’s rooted in food, music, and community. But living in New York, you're often boxed in by time, money, and the hustle of everyday life. So getting hired to not just attend but to shuck oysters at Jazz Fest? To lead a team of extremely talented shuckers? That felt like the stars aligning.

We put together a crew I’ll never forget: Jeffrey Spoo, Lindsay Allday, Payton Clements, Julian Perez, Corey Richardson, Mahnaz Damania, and myself (Support staff - Bijli Damania-Patel). And let me say this clearly—these shuckers are rock stars. No complaints. No missteps. Not one bad oyster going out. Just consistent, clean, precise shucking day after day. These folks didn’t just show what makes a good shucker—they defined what makes a great one.

Because it’s never just about the oysters. It’s how you show up. How you treat your teammates. How you treat your guests. How clean you keep your station. All of it matters. And this team delivered.

A huge shoutout to Justin from Lady Nellie Oyster Co.—the organizer, farmer, supplier, and a guy who deserves every bit of credit for his patience, and the magic he pulls off with limited resources. His oysters carried us through both weekends and held their own in the Louisiana heat and chaos.

Lindsay was the only one on the team I hadn’t met before—and I’ll admit, I was a little nervous. She’s the NOLA Oyster Queen, after all. But we clicked instantly. Our values, our vision for the oyster community, and the way we work—it all lined up. Working beside her was not just easy, it was inspiring.

One of the real highlights? Ian McNulty from NOLA.com. He stopped by our stall every single day and had the kindest words for the oysters we were serving. When someone that tapped into the local food scene gives you props like that—it means something. His authencity and support validated all the hard work, all the prep, and every shuck we put out there.

By the end of it all, we had shucked and served 23,000 oysters. If you scroll through the Instagram posts from the weekend, you’ll see what I mean—every plate looks perfect. That’s the standard we held ourselves to, and we hit it every single time.

Oh—and as a mega bonus? Mahnaz and I got to see Pearl Jam live. Literal bucket list moment. I used to joke as a teenager that I’d give my left arm to see them perform live. And here I was, shucking my left arm off all weekend... and then getting to watch Pearl Jam at the end. it was…evenflow.

Jazz Fest was a reminder that the soul of the South lives in its food. Every vendor was local. No big names. No franchises. Just real people serving real food from their community. It was electric. It was authentic. It was everything I hoped it would be—and more.

But even after all that, we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave New Orleans. The city had a grip on us. So we stayed longer and kept the party going.

We popped up at a local comedy street festival—food, jokes, loud music, and that chaotic, joyful energy that only NOLA can conjure. Then we did another at The Batture, a mellow Sunday by the river with families, kids running around, and the Mississippi rolling by.

Two completely different scenes, and both pure New Orleans. That city knows how to feed you—body, soul, and spirit.

Josephine’s: A Culinary Pilgrimage

From Louisiana, we set our sights west: Texas. First stop—Houston. Finally, a visit to Chef Luke at Josephine’s. What is this man even doing? Redfish on the half shell. Redfish collars. Crab fried rice. Smoked everything. The meal he laid down for us went beyond good—it was transcendent. I got to shuck oysters in his kitchen, and I left with a full belly and even fuller respect for one of the most talented, humble chefs I’ve ever met. I’m not going to waste time trying to describe how his food tasted or how it made me feel—it has to be experienced. Go there, sit down at a table, and let the team guide you through one of the most amazing meals you’ll ever have.

Texas Indie Oyster Festival: A Party With Purpose

Then it was on to Austin for the first-ever Texas Indie Oyster Festival, hosted by my friend Dan “The Seafood Dude” Wangler. You might remember him from our first piece on Texas oysters—he’s been putting in the work, and this festival was the payoff.

400 people. 5,000 oysters. Local farms. Texas chefs. Shuckers from Florida to Queens. We threw a party, and the South showed up.

It had been a year since we’d seen Amy from Big Tree Oysters, and this reunion did not disappoint. She teamed up with the ridiculously talented Chef Aaron Juvera from Southerleigh in San Antonio, and of course—he came prepared. We’re talking dressed oysters with bacon, and a beer brewed with Big Tree oysters. D. Licious.

The pairings kept rolling in. Lonestar Oyster Co. teamed up with Hotel Emma. Oyster Bros joined forces with Leroy & Lewis to create a Frito Pie Oyster that stopped people in their tracks. It was wild, it was genius, and somehow—it worked.

Beyond the flavor, there was purpose. Texas Sea Grant and the ORRC were on-site, educating guests about oyster ecosystems and collecting shells for recycling. It wasn’t just a food festival. It was an ecosystem showcase.

I got to emcee the "Rate Your Shucks" competition—a showdown of speed, style, and skill. Julian took home the win for fastest time, while Robert from New Orleans earned the cleanest tray of the evening. We had shuckers representing both coasts and everything in between. The energy was electric.

This event wasn’t just a win—it was a blueprint. A new standard for what oyster festivals can be. Community, flavor, education, and fun. Hats off to Daniel. You nailed it.

The Road Back

After a few days recovering (and eating) in Austin, I packed up the van and drove home to New York. The odometer read just over 8,000 miles. In that time, I learned new techniques, made new friends, and most importantly, found new appreciation for the Southern oyster belt—its flavor, its grit, and its people.

Southern oysters aren’t just food. They’re community. They’re heritage. They’re an open door into a slower, warmer, deeper way of being. And if you’ve ever written off Gulf oysters? You’re missing out. Come down, have this crew shuck you a dozen, and prepare to be converted.

Thank you to every farmer, chef, shucker, and festival-goer who made this trip what it was. We’ll see you at the next stop.

Check the events page to find out where we’ll be shucking around next. Until then—keep wandering, keep slurping.